


'Til My Balance Starts to Set In

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: IT (2017), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Crossover, First Kiss, Flirting, IT Canon Divergent, M/M, Mild Spoilers, Stranger Things Canon Compliant, friends to boyfriends, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 16:32:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19749520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Will meets Richie Tozier when the Byers—and Eleven—move to Derry, Maine.





	'Til My Balance Starts to Set In

**Author's Note:**

> So season 3, am I right? 
> 
> This idea struck me pretty much from the moment I finished the season, and I managed to crank this out pretty quick! Haven't written Ryers (or ST or IT for that matter) in ages, but it was a lotta fun! This is canon compliant for Stranger Things, but I fudged w the canon timeline of IT and pushed it back a few years, just an FYI. 
> 
> Thanks to Hannah for beta'ing! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Will walks into his new high school caught between trepidation and excitement. 

On the one hand, he doesn’t know anyone here except for El and even though he had all of August to adjust to Derry, he still feels out of his depth. He misses The Party. He misses Hawkins, even with all the crazy shit that constantly happened there. He barely knows any of the teachers here, save for the few he met at orientation a week prior. His backpack feels too heavy and he’s certain he’s going to get lost on the way to all his classes. 

On the other hand, no one here knows him as the zombie boy, and no one knows him as the kid with the crazy mom or the loner older brother. No one thinks he’s _weird_ , or at least any weirder than any other new kid. No one is going to eye El suspiciously for suddenly appearing out of nowhere, because that’s the whole _point_ of being a new kid. Jonathan isn’t in school so he can’t hover and helicopter around Will (which, in all honesty, is as terrifying as it is exhilarating). 

So yeah. Trepidation and excitement. 

Will’s grip on his backpack is white-knuckled. He stands up a little straighter, and takes his first step into the swirling sea of students in front of him—

And promptly slams into someone much taller and lankier than him.

“Woah, shit! Easy there, Bowlcut!” 

Will stumbles back but is saved from falling on his ass by two bony hands grabbing him by the elbows. “Uh,” he says, dazed.

“Careful,” the same voice says. It’s not unkind, unlike so many peers at Hawkins. “You new here?”

“What gave it away?” Will asks once he stands up straight again, shoulders hunching sheepishly. 

“Never seen you before and Derry isn’t exactly a huge town.” A blinding white grin and unruly mop of deep brown, almost black hair greets him. Behind huge, thick-framed glasses, bright brown eyes stare back at him. “I’m Richie.”

“Will,” he says. “Sorry, again.”

Richie waves off the apology. “No big thang,” he replies smoothly. “What’s your first class?” 

“Uhh,” Will finally unwraps a hand from his backpack strap and reaches into the pocket of his polo shirt. He scrambles to unfold the paper tucked inside and says, “Uh, Mr. Jorgensen.”

“Oh, cool. I know where that is.” Richie turns sharp on his heel, shoes squeaking on the linoleum. “Follow me.”

Will casts a glance around haphazardly, although he’s not sure who he’s looking for. El got to school early because she managed to make friends sometime during the end of summer break, and wanted to meet up with them before first bell. He swallows his nerves and looks back at Richie, who’s staring at him expectantly. “Sorry, coming.”

“You have got to stop apologizing,” Richie says with a grin. “So, where’re you from?”

They fall almost in step, with Richie a pace ahead and Will a pace behind, so that the taller boy can guide them through the crowd. 

“Indiana,” Will says. 

“Lame,” Richie says with a nod. “Why’d you move?”

Will raises an eyebrow at the question, bold as it is, but Richie doesn’t seem bothered. “Uh, stuff went down in my old town. Mom wanted a change of scenery.”

Richie nods knowingly and opens his mouth again, but a shout cuts across him and all the other noise in the hall:

“Tuh-tuh-Trashmouth! Who are you buh-bothering now?” Will follows Richie’s gaze to a cluster of boys at the end of the hall, the rest of the students clearing them a wide berth. 

“New kid!” Richie hollers back. “And I’m not _bothering_ him.” He steers Will toward the group and says, “Isn’t that right, Will?”

“Don’t feel obligated to lie,” another boy chimes in. He’s about Will’s height with coiffed hair that makes Will think of Steve, and his heart hurts a little. “Richie’s an asshole, and it’s better if you don’t encourage it.” 

Will blinks. 

“You’re scaring him Eds,” Richie hisses. 

The boy who yelled before, hair shaved short on the sides and bangs hanging in front of his face in choppy strands looks at Will. “I’m Buh-Bill.” 

“Will,” he says, shoving his hand forward to shake.

Bill smiles kindly and returns the gesture. “Seriously though, is Tr-Trashmouth bothering you?”

Will looks at Richie, who’s giving him wide puppy-dog eyes. “He was going to show me to Mr. Jorgensen’s class. It’s my first period.” 

Bill nods. “Ben, isn’t that your first period too?”

A sandy-haired kid peeks out from behind Bill. “Yep.” 

“Guh-great,” Bill says. “I know for a fact that R-Richie’s first class is with Mr. Evangelista, which is on the other side of the building.”

“I still have like, ten minutes till first bell! I could show Will to his class and have plenty of time to get to mine.”

“If you’re tardy on the first day of school, Principal Finch might actually su-suspend you.” 

Richie groans. “You’re such a killjoy, Big Bill, fuck.” 

Will feels like he’s getting whiplash with looking from boy to boy; there’s still one more, leaning against the wall and watching the exchange, who hasn’t spoken yet. He smiles and nods at Will, but doesn’t say anything.

“Where’s Stan?” Richie asks after a beat.

“Probably already in his first class, getting his notes ready,” Eds answers. 

Richie scoffs. “Nerd.” 

Eds rolls his eyes. “C’mon, my class is right next to Jorgensen. Ben and I can show you.”

Will looks at Richie one last time, almost unwittingly, before hurrying to follow at Ben’s and Eds’ heels. “Uh,” he says, once they’re out of earshot of Bill and Richie and the other boy. “Sorry?”

“What’re you apologizing for?” Eds asks. “Richie’s a jackass.”

“He seems nice.”

Ben smiles at Will, and it’s kind, but it’s also that kind of smile Will’s mom gives him sometimes. The one that makes Will feel out of his depth. “He’s a jackass,” is all Ben confirms. “He’s our best friend, but he’s still a jackass.”

“Got it,” Will says with a faint laugh. 

They fall silent for the rest of the walk until suddenly, Ben stops and Will almost crashes against his back.

“Here we go, Jorgensen. And then that’s Miss Fortune, yes that really is her name.”

Will blinks. “Uh.”

“She’s great,” Eds says. “See you guys at lunch?” 

Ben nods, and the Eds slips into the classroom. Ben turns to Will. “Wanna get settled? I know how much it sucks to be the new kid.” 

Will nods. “Sure.” He follows yet again as Ben goes into the room first and picks out a desk near the left-middle of the room, not too close to the front but not tucked away, isolated in a corner like Will might’ve otherwise chosen. Will takes the seat beside him. 

“Richie really doesn’t seem that bad,” Will says absently as he digs out a notebook from his backpack and watches Ben do the same.

“He’s not,” Ben agrees. “But he is kinda stupid. And he can be kinda overwhelming at first.” Ben shrugs. “He means well, but he’s kind of like a big, dumb dog. With a foul mouth.”

Will, despite himself, grins. He hides it by burying his face in his notebook rather than let Ben see.

Despite Ben’s and Eds’ (who he later learns prefers to be called ‘Eddie’) and Bill’s and Stan’s and Mike’s (the latter two he meets properly at lunch his first day at Derry High) warnings...Will and Richie become fast friends. 

Maybe it’s because Richie was the first person at Derry that Will really talked to, or maybe it’s because for all his sharp, thinks-he’s-so-clever jabs, Richie always seems to have a kind smile reserved just for Will. 

Maybe it’s because Richie reminds Will of Mike, brown eyes and fluffy hair and tall, with gangly limbs. Except Richie dresses in ripped jeans and cut off jean shorts and pants that would be tight if he weren’t so skinny. Where Mike dressed in pressed shorts and tucked in t-shirts, Richie always seems to be sporting a band tee of some kind with a tacky shirt thrown over it. 

Maybe it’s because Richie is nice to his mom, and El, and bugs the crap out of Jonathan but gets him to smile too. Maybe it’s because Richie listens to Will rave about the old D&D campaigns, and promises they can get the Losers Club together sometime to play it, because he’s sure Will’s gonna be a kickass dungeon master. 

Maybe it’s because Richie is the first person to treat Will like a normal kid, instead of the kid who came back from the dead or the kid whose mom axed a hole in their house or the kid who, who, who— 

“Will?”

He blinks and realizes he’s been so lost in his thoughts, he’s nearly worn through the page of his sketchbook with his pencil. The poor things blunted down to a nub now, and he swears under his breath and reaches for his pencil sharpener. “Sorry,” he says. “Got distracted.”

Richie nods. “Uh huh…” He stares at Will. He always seems to be staring, scrutinizing, analyzing. Makes Will feel a bit like a specimen under a microscope, except Richie swears up and down that he’s not a “fucking nerd” and wouldn’t be caught _dead_ using a microscope. “Hey, draw me.”

“What?” Will asks. The tips of his ears burn and he bites his tongue on an admission that he’s already drawn Richie. He’s drawn all of the Losers Club members a handful of times, but he’s drawn Richie the most. 

Richie grins and leans back, sprawling across Will’s bed; he’d claimed the space when he first walked in this afternoon, dropped his backpack at the foot of the bed and grabbing the pillow from the head of the bed. Will’s been at his desk, first working on homework and then sketching idly before getting lost in his thoughts. 

“Draw me,” Richie says again. He lays on his side, presses a hand to his chest and bats his eyes like a southern belle. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Will bites his bottom lip. “Fine. But you have to stay still. Totally still.”

Richie rolls his eyes. “We’ll see how far you get before I have to take a piss and then we’ll call it good. I think you’ve got a half hour, maybe forty-five minutes max.”

“You’re on.” Will sharpens his pencil back to a perfect, fine tip and flips to a new page in his sketchbook. 

Richie makes it a full hour before he’s bolting off Will’s bed and beelining for the restroom down the hall. Will laughs to himself and sets his pencil aside, stretching his fingers. While he works the cramps out of his hand, he admires his sketch. It’s rough and messy, started off rushed and then slowed down, rushed again once Richie started to wriggle. 

It’s good, though. Probably Will’s best so far, almost certainly because he was able to draw it while watching Richie uninterrupted. 

He’s still staring at the drawing, noting things he’d like to change or things he could’ve done better, when a hand on his shoulder startles him bad enough that he yelps. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Richie shouts. “Just, that’s really good, dude.”

Will looks up and forces himself not to hold his sketchbook tight enough to rip. “Thanks.”

“Sign it for me?” 

Will makes a confused noise. 

“C’mon, I wanna keep it.”

“Isn’t that kinda narcissistic?” 

Riche shrugs. “Has that ever stopped me before?” 

Will can’t really argue with that. “You want me to sign it?”

“Fuck yeah! I’m gonna put it up in my locker. Can’t have people thinking I drew it. They’ll start asking me to draw shit for them.”

“Like you did, to me,” Will teases.

Richie nods. “Exactly.” 

Will shakes his head but reaches for a fine tip pen. He uncaps it and scrawls his signature, squiggly and illegible, in the bottom right corner, just over what’s a messily shaded version of Richie’s knees. He tears the page out and passes it to Richie. “You owe me.”

“Hey!” Richie squawks. “We’re friends!”

Will kicks at Richie’s shin. “Asshole.”

Riche beams. 

Will listens as El and Mike chatter on their walkies. It’s Valentine’s Day, so it makes sense, and Will’s not even mad. It’s not like Mike’s ditching him, and it’s not as though he and El had plans or anything. Jonathan’s off on a surprise road trip back to Hawkins to see Nancy, and his mom is working tonight.

It isn’t the loneliness that has Will’s stomach churning uncertainly. 

He’s not sure _what_ it is, but it’s not the fact that he’s lonely. He’s lying on his bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling, and wishing he had the motivation to draw or binge stupid movies or maybe plot out a new D&D campaign for the Losers Club. 

His window opening nearly scares the shit out of him. He startles so hard he almost falls off the bed and only saves himself by clinging to one bedpost for balance. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry!” Richie says, not sounding very sorry. “You weren’t answering the front door.” 

Will looks at his bedroom door, closed. His music isn’t very loud but between that and Eleven in the next room over chattering away, “I guess I missed it.” 

Richie shrugs. “I got a bunch of discount Valentine’s chocolate and rented three movies from Video West.” He digs the items out of his duffle bag slung over his shoulder and waves them at Will. “Party in your living room?”

The odd feeling in Will’s stomach has settled slightly. He nods. “Yeah, okay.”

They’re part way through _Beverly Hills Cop_ when Richie looks over at Will.

“What?” Will asks without looking away from the screen, even though he’s not very invested in the film. 

“You okay?”

“Why does everyone always ask me that?” Will says with a groan. He tips to one side and faceplants into the carpet, leaving Richie leaning up against the couch. “I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be!”

“You’ve just been kinda quiet lately. And when Mike mentioned asking Elizabeth to the spring dance, you got kinda…”

“I don’t like dances,” Will says. He curls his fists in his sleeping bag. “They’re stupid.”

“I mean, duh. But, like, _girls_.”

Quieter, heart thudding hard in his chest, Will says, “I don’t like girls.” 

Silence. 

Will squeezes his eyes shut tight and hides his face against the carpet despite the scratchy feeling. His back is starting to ache from sitting sideways but he doesn’t care, because it’s better than looking at Richie. 

“I mean, they do kinda suck,” Richie says eventually. “Buy like, _boys_ ,” he says in the same tone as before. “Am I right?”

Will’s mouth is dry. “What?”

“I like girls,” Richie says. “But they’re kinda sucky sometimes. Especially, like, when Bill liked this one girl last year? It sucked _so_ much.” When Will sneaks a glance at Richie, the other boy has his head tilted back to stare at the ceiling. “Boys suck too, but like, in a different way.” 

Will takes a deep breath and sits up slowly. “You like boys too?”

Richie makes an amused noise, deep in his throat. “I mean, sure. It’s not that different, is it?”

Will blinks. 

“Eddie does too, but he said I could only tell you, cuz he thought...it might make you feel better.” 

Will swallows. “Really?”

Richie finally looks at him with a crooked smile in place. “Yeah, really. You’re not alone, y’know?” 

Will nods. “Yeah.” He settles in against the couch beside Richie again. If he sits a little closer than before, neither of them mention it. “Yeah, I know. Thanks. Sorry.”

Richie rolls his eyes. “Apologize again and I’m taking the last 3 Musketeers.” 

Will’s fifteenth birthday is a bittersweet thing when it rolls around. Middle of the school year, not remotely close to spring break, both things that means all his friends from Hawkins can’t fly out. They can’t miss school, which Will gets—he can’t miss school either, to fly out there. But it still hurts. He hasn’t seen his friends since Christmas break when they flew back to Hawkins for a couple days. 

Will waves off his mom’s suggestions for a party, and ignores Jonathan’s offer to take him to the mall, and doesn’t respond to El’s suggestion that they spy on their friends for a quick laugh. He resigns himself to a quiet night at home, with a meal cooked by his mom and a cake that Jonathan probably spent too much on, and presents clumsily wrapped by El. 

What he gets is nearly a heart attack. 

He walks in the door of their home in Derry to find the living room almost entirely dark, which is weird since it’s still pretty bright out given that it’s spring, and it’s only three in the afternoon, and—

_“SURPRISE!”_

Will isn’t ashamed to admit he screams. He’s faced down evil scientists, Russians, demogorgons, demodogs, and the Mind Flayer—he thinks he’s allowed to be freaked out when something (or rather, someones) jump out from hiding and scream at him. 

“Will! Oh, god, honey, I’m so sorry.” His mom is rushing at him and holding him and petting his face. He pushes her away gently as he tries to get his breathing under control. “I knew it wasn’t a good idea, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“Fine,” he rasps. “Just. Uh.” He takes in a shaking breath. 

“Hey, man,” and suddenly Richie is beside him. “You good?”

Will nods. “Just scared the shit outta me, jackass.”

Richie grins. Will smiles apologetically at his mom before shoving at Richie. 

“This was your idea, then?” Will asks as he finally looks around now that the lights are on. There are streamers strung about the living room, and there’s at least eight boxes of pizza spread across the dining room table. 

“I’ll never tell,” Richie says. “C’mon, pizzas getting cold and your mom said we have to eat before we do presents.”

His mom rolls her eyes but nods. “Everyone into the dining room.” 

It’s like a stampede: Ben and Bill and Mike and Stan and Eddie and Jonathan all shuffling into the dining room, with mom following after, and then Richie and Will bringing up the rear. 

“Is this okay?” Richie asks as they hang back for a moment. Will’s mom is grabbing paper plates from the kitchen and Jonathan is trying to dig out the vegetarian box for El. Will watches it all with a grin.

“This is great,” he says. “Seriously.”

Richie preens. “Awesome. I’m staying the night, by the way.”

“Just you?” Will asks, eyebrow raised. 

“Nah,” Richie says after a moment of silence. “Everyone is, just Mike has to leave early in the morning.”

“Cool.” For some inexplicable reason, Will’s cheeks are burning, and there’s a faint feeling of disappointment in his gut. “C’mon, I want to get the pepperoni before it’s all gone.”

“Please, your mom made us get three pepperonis cuz it’s your favorite.” 

“Wait, made _you_ _guys_ get it?”

“We offered,” Ben chimes in as Will and Richie get close to the table. “Pooled our money!”

“Richie tried to get the homeless guy outside the supermarket to buy us beer instead,” Stan adds.

Will’s mom makes a scandalized noise from the kitchen.

“Clearly, that didn’t work.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “But your mom gave us very strict instructions on which pizzas to order, and we made Richie stay here and decorate with El while we got the food.” 

“My own friends betraying me as if I’m not their closest, dearest buddy.” Richie holds a hand to his chest like he’s been shot. “You’re all I have left, Will!” He slings an arm around Will’s shoulders and hauls him close. “You’re my only friend.”

Will laughs and hides his burning cheeks by ducking his face and focuses on getting three slices of piping hot pepperoni onto his plate. 

Later that night, Will and Richie are the only two left awake. 

Stan had dozed off first, followed by Ben; Bill, Mike, Richie, and Will had stayed up trying to watch _Fright Night_ but when Will’s mom snuck up on them in the living room, having them all screaming, they agreed to turn it off. Bill and Mike fell asleep not long after that, weighed down with pizza and cake and ice cream.

Will and Richie are awake though, and by unspoken agreement, they end up in Will’s room.

“I like the hoodie,” Will says for the umpteenth time. He brushes a hand over the artfully faded logo slapped on top of neon orange, teal stripes looped around the sleeves.

Richie shrugs. “No biggie. Glad it fits.” 

Will nods. He’s perched at the head of his bed and Richie sits at the edge. “Thank you for the party, too. I really didn’t think we’d do anything big.”

“I know we’re not The Party,” Richie says. “But we’re your friends too.”

“I know,” Will says urgently. “I know that, I do. It’s just...still hard to adjust.”

“Yeah.” Richie shuffles closer on the bed. “I had another present I wanted to give you.” He’s not looking at Will and Will’s heart kicks up a notch.

“Yeah?” 

Richie nods. “You can’t hit me.”

“I can’t throw a punch to save my life,” Will points out, not for the first time. 

Richie grins. “I know, but still. No hitting me.”

“I make zero promises, Trashmouth.”

Richie finally looks up at him, and leans closer still. Will meets him halfway. His heart is beating so fast it almost hurts. 

The kiss, _Will’s first kiss_ , is gentle. It’s soft and sweet and Richie’s lips are chapped and wet. Richie’s breathing is hot against Will’s cheek and Will isn’t even sure he’s remembering to breathe. Will tilts his head slightly and Richie tilts his head the other way and their lips slide together a little firmer, a little warmer.

In the hallway outside, the floor creaks and the two boys jump apart.

They both stare at the bedroom door. It’s closed but they both clearly wait for it suddenly to spring open. 

“Get to bed soon and I won’t tell mom what you’re up to,” Jonathan says lowly, teasingly through the door. 

“Go away!” Will hisses, and Jonathan’s laughter carries down the hall to his room. 

Will looks at Richie, heart doing somersaults in his ribcage. He half expects Richie to bolt for it, to sneer, to make some joke and brush it off.

Instead, Richie leans in again, eyes bright. 

“We should get to bed,” Will says. 

“C’mon, one more kiss and then we’ll go back out there. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

Richie shrugs and Will kisses him again. It’s as simple and sweet as the first one but no less exciting. They pull apart and Will lets out a shuddering breath. His whole body is shaking. 

“When you said you liked boys,” Will says. They haven’t stood yet. “Is it, like, all boys? Or…”

“I like boys in general, yeah.” Richie’s hand lands on Will’s and curls around his fingers, touch careful and surprisingly tentative for him. “I just _like_ -like you.” 

Will bites his lip on a grin. “I like-like you too.”

“Well, duh. Who wouldn’t?” Richie shoots him a toothy grin. “C’mon, let’s get back out there.”

“Richie Tozier, worried about getting caught? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’m mostly thinking that if we don’t get caught right now, it’ll be easier to convince your mom to keep letting me stay over, even if we’re dating.” 

Will swallows a giddy noise and tries to force his heart rate to slow. “Fat chance, but we’ll figure it out.” Will opens the door and tugs Richie out into the hall and back to the living room. Their sleeping bags crinkle as they climb back into them. Once they’re settled, Will reaches out and Richie finds his hand, links their fingers. 

“So,” Richie drawls quietly. “Best birthday ever?” 

Will rolls his eyes. “If I say yes, will you kiss me again?” 

Richie’s grin is bright even in the darkness. 

“Guys,” Will says, “This is Richie. My boyfriend.” 

His palm is sweating, and Richie’s death grip on his hand isn’t helping. One would think these are Richie’s friends they’re meeting, not _Will’s_. One would think Richie is the one coming out to lifelong, childhood friends, not _Will_. 

It’s endearing, how nervous he is. Even if he’s just been blaming his sweating on the Hawkins heat and humidity.

Will forces himself to meet Mike’s gaze first, and he’s grinning. Dustin’s smile is toothy and uneven, and Lucas looks smug—so does Max, come to think of it. Will rolls his eyes. 

“Do we say congratulations?” Lucas asks. “Cuz El keeps saying that Richie is, and I quote, an asshat.” 

“He is,” Will says. He squeezes Richie’s hand. “But he’s cool.”

“Good enough for me,” Lucas declares. 

“And me,” Dustin adds. 

Max shrugs, but her lips are quirking into a grin. El passes Will, shooting him a wink and a smile, before sidling up to Mike. When Mike doesn’t respond, El elbows him in the side none too gently. 

“You hurt him,” Mike starts. “I’ll kill you.”

“Okay, yeah, true,” Lucas says, and Max chime in, “We’ll _definitely_ kill you.” 

“We know how to hide a body,” Dustin adds, which isn’t totally true but isn’t entirely untrue, either. 

Richie, to his credit, doesn’t look alarmed. “So, what sort of shit is there to do in Hawkins, then?” 

Will grins, and so do his friends. “So much shit,” he says. “Just you wait and see.” 


End file.
